For a minute or two he stood erect, with folded arms, gazing moodily before him.

Then he said, as if to himself: "I owe the man my life.

He nursed me through the plague.

If it had not been for that--if he had not tended me so carefully in that valley in Nepaul--I would throw him overboard now--catch him in my arms and throw him overboard! I would--and be hanged for it!" He walked past us as if he saw us not, silent, erect, moody.

Hilda stepped aside and let him pass.